


Don't Smother It

by pezzainwonderland



Category: The Society (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 13:47:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20743196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pezzainwonderland/pseuds/pezzainwonderland
Summary: I did a drabble event on tumblr - these are the results of that chaotic, amazing day.Thus far, the chapters and their respective prompts and ships are as follows:1. Clareth (Clark/Grizz) - "What the hell were you thinking?!"2. Clareth (Clark/Grizz) - "I've got you."3. Gwean (Gwen/Bean) - "I can't sleep. Can I stay here?"4. Gwean (Gwen/Bean) - "Come cuddle."5. Grizzam (Grizz/Sam) - Soulmate AU.6. Grizzam (Grizz/Sam ft. The Guard) - "What's cookin', good lookin'?"/Superhero AU





	1. clareth: “what the hell were you thinking?!”

Real talk: Clark definitely hadn’t expected to lose that fight.

He’d become accustomed to always being the bigger guy, y’know? He was so used to just being able to use his size as a weapon in itself - it never really occurred to him that bigger didn’t always mean better, or stronger.

His downfall in this particular instance had been his lack of agility. Campbell Eliot was small, by Clark’s standards, but the dude was fucking quick, man. He was quick, and sneaky, and it was bullshit.

He was searching Luke’s freezer for an ice pack - or, like…peas or something - when he heard the front door slam.

He didn’t even have to look up to know it was Grizz. He could practically hear him fuming from here.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw him storm right past the kitchen in his fury, and Clark smirked, shaking his head fondly without saying a word to redirect his friend, because Grizz was a smart guy - he’d figure it out. He just needed a second.

(He wasn’t always the clearest of thinkers when he was angry, you see. His fatal flaw was his temper).

“Clark!” Grizz yelled after a few more seconds of searching some other corner of the massive home.

“Here, bro,” Clark called back, finally finding a bag of frozen fruit that would just have to do and closing the door to the freezer as he stepped back, holding the bag against his bloody nose.

He leaned his hip against the island and waited patiently until Grizz came storming into the kitchen, eyes narrowed, nostrils flared.

“Morning,” Clark grinned, the cocky expression marred by his fucked up face and the obstruction of the fruit bag.

“The fuck was that?!” Grizz demanded, bypassing the greeting altogether, “What the hell were you thinking?!”

“You needed back-up!” Clark countered, gesturing toward the unscathed boy across from him with the bag of mango chunks (overrated fruit, in his opinion, but Luke sucked that way).

Grizz spread his arms in a gesture of confusion, “What are you talking about - I had it under control!”

“He called you a - “

“I know what he said, Clark - he’s an asshole. There’s no sense in fucking losing it every time Campbell’s an asshole, dude. That’s who he is!”

Clark shifted, his hands dropping to his sides, “I know, but…”

“But…?” Grizz prompted shortly.

Here was another thing about Clark:

Clark was fucking weird about Grizz. Like, batshit fucking crazy kind of weird. A level of weird that he’d never really reached when it came to Gwen, and fuck if that hadn’t been the most confusing thing he’d ever dealt with in his entire like, because he had loved Gwen.

But Grizz was like…

It was fucking Grizz.

People could say whatever the fuck they wanted about Clark - hell, even about Jason or Luke, to a reasonable extent - but when they went in on Grizz, even just the tiniest bit, even the most insignificant, off-handed dickish remark, Clark couldn’t fucking stand it.

No one shit on Grizz.

Especially not about this.

“I’m not down with homophilia, dude,” Clark explained lamely.

Grizz almost cracked, then - the corner of his mouth twitching ever so slightly as he fought back a smile, “Homophobia.”

“What?”

“It’s…nevermind,” he shook his head, his hands resting on his hips as he took a deep breath, his earlier rage slowly ebbing away, “I appreciate that, but you can’t wail of someone every time they’re a dick about it.”

“Why not? Somebody fucking should.”

“Look at your face.”

“My face is fine.”

Grizz stepped forward with a sigh and unceremoniously reached up to poke and prod at Clark’s bruised nose.

Clark immediately flinched away from the sharp, unwelcome pain, “Ow - what the fuck?!”

Grizz rolled his eyes, “It’s probably broken.”

“So you figured you’d poke at it?!”

“I was checking it!”

“You’re a dick.”

“And you’re an idiot - call it even.”

Clark glared at Grizz, and in doing so realized that Grizz was really fucking close to him, and it was really hard to stay mad at him when he was standing that close.

See? Fucking weird.

Grizz reached down to take the mangos from Clark’s grasp and pulled out a stool, instructing Clark to sit so that he could clean him up a bit.

“My hero,” Clark teased with a grin.

“Shut up.”

Clark did as he was told, watching while Grizz grabbed a cloth and ran it under warm water, “Love you, bro,” he muttered.

Grizz chuckled, “Love you, too.”

Clark could tell that Grizz was just humouring him - saying I love you in the way the four of them always did. Casually, without any real conviction behind it. They always meant it, sure, but…

The problem was that Clark really meant it.


	2. clareth: "i've got you."

It was a rainy night in New Ham, and Clark couldn’t sleep.

It was his own fault, really, for starting a new game as late as he had. He found himself playing more video games now than he ever had before, because he found himself wanting to find a way to escape now more than ever.

He used to go for runs, back before all of this, back when things had been normal. Back when he’d first started looking at his friend differently - when they started talking about college, and getting out of West Ham, moving away from each other.

He’d always known this was coming. He’d always known that he would be left behind.

He hadn’t realized how hard it would be to see the others go.

To see Grizz move on without him.

Now, they were trapped in a fucking bubble together and yet, somehow, Grizz was more out of reach than he had even been before. Clark almost would have preferred they way things had been before - when he could blame college and education for the growing distance between them.

Here, there were much more complicated issues coming between them. Politics and morals. Wants and needs.

Now, more than ever, Clark wanted Grizz.

But Grizz needed Sam Eliot.

And that had been…a lot.

Finding out Grizz was gay had been one blow it itself, but learning that he’d found someone else before Clark had even had a chance had been something else entirely. He hadn’t had a second to even consider making a move, consider whether or not he had a shot, because Grizz was already taken by the time Clark even knew the truth.

And that was just the cruellest thing about it.

Clark liked Sam. He didn’t want to resent him for the way things had played out, because it wasn’t Sam’s fault that Grizz fell for him first - that Grizz didn’t want Clark.

But Clark kind of hated Sam. Because Grizz wanted Sam.

And Sam had Grizz.

And Clark never stood a chance in hell.

But then on that night, as the storm raged on, while Clark tried to lose himself in some virtual fantasy world, a knock came at his door.

He almost missed it. It was so tentative, and the rain was pelting against his windows so hard that he’d hardly been sure he’d heard it at all until it happened again, stronger this time - more insistent.

Frowning, Clark paused his game and went to peer out into the night to see who the hell was banging on his door at one o’clock in the morning.

It was way past curfew, and these were troubling times. After everything with Campbell, and the coup, and Allie’s escape, the streets were ripe with potential for an inevitable civil war.

It was fucking stupid to be out this late, in a storm like this.

And yet, there stood Grizz, completely soaked from top to bottom.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Clark cursed, stubbing his toe on the side table in his haste to get to the door to usher Grizz inside, “Get in here, you psycho - what are you…”

He trailed off as Grizz stepped inside, because Grizz was fucking crying, and it was, like…legitimately the worst thing Clark had ever seen.

He closed and locked the door behind him and hurried over to the couch to grab one of his mom’s knitted blankets to drape over his shoulders, “What happened?” he asked, rage already curling in his gut, “If someone did something to you, you gimme their name, bro, I swear to God - “

Grizz shook his head, water dripping from his long, drenched hair as he did so, “S’not like that. I just…can I stay here tonight?”

Clark blinked, “Yeah, dude. Of course. But I thought - I mean, I can give you a ride if you wanna stay with Sam.”

Grizz’s lip quivered and Clark had to fight the urge to immediately blurt out apologies, without fully understanding what he was apologizing for.

“We broke up.”

Oh.

“Oh,” Clark murmured, “Shit, bro.”

Grizz sniffed, wiping stubbornly at his tears, “Yeah. He, uh…said it was too risky, with Campbell and everything,” he explained, giving a shrug.

Clark couldn’t honestly say he disagreed with what Sam had done, or his reasoning. He got it. Maybe Clark didn’t always understand much, but he understood Sam Eliot in that moment.

He was trying to protect Grizz.

If nothing else, Clark understood that.

But that wasn’t what Grizz needed to hear right now. So, instead, Clark opened his arms wide with an encouraging smile and Grizz snorted in pathetic amusement before he stepped into the embrace, wrapping his arms around Clark’s waist.

Clark shoved his feelings aside and held tightly to the heartbroken boy he’d learned to love from a distance, “I’ve got you.”


	3. gwean: "i can't sleep. can i stay here?"

Gwen returned to her tent after Grizz had fallen asleep, feeling like a total fucking idiot for coming on to him like that now that her earlier buzz had started to wear off.

What the fuck was she thinking? She didn’t even like Grizz like that - he was Clark’s friend. She knew that was fucked up.

Loneliness was a hell of a thing.

She was just so scared - so completely freaked out by the idea that this was all there was, and these people were the only options she had for love and fulfillment, and Grizz was one of the good ones.

It had been a shot in the dark, and it had been stupid.

Despite their chat, Gwen couldn’t sleep. She wondered how scared Grizz must be. Sexuality was a hell of a thing - fluid, Emily had once told her.

She wondered how true that was. Grizz had been pretty sure his wasn’t fluid.

Or maybe he’d just been letting her down easy.

Gwen was considering her previous rejection when the flap to her tent opened, nearly giving her a heart attack.

She breathed a sigh of relief when Bean’s harmless little head popped in through the opening, “Hi,” she whispered, offering a small wave.

Gwen waved back, “What are you doing?” she whispered back.

Bean chewed her lip before slipping fully inside, “I can’t sleep. Can I stay here? With you?”

Gwen quirked a brow, because she was pretty sure that was the exact same line she’d just tried with Grizz.

Suspicious, but curious, she nodded, “Sure.”

Bean beamed gratefully and turned to zip the tent shut before she crawled in deeper. Gwen moved aside to make room for her petite form, considering her curiously in the dark.

“I’ve never really been camping before,” Bean admitted.

“Ah,” Gwen nodded, “It’s overrated,” she stated.

“Totally,” Bean agreed hastily.

The girls were quiet for a moment, both staring up at the ceiling of the tent. Gwen’s thoughts were flying in a million different directions.

Was she just reading into things because of what had happened with Grizz?

Maybe Bean was just genuinely restless and freaked out about sleeping alone in the middle of the woods.

They didn’t know what was out there - they didn’t know the rules of this place. There could be fucking nightmare creatures out there, for all they knew.

But the suspense was kind of killing her, and she’d never really been known for her subtlety.

“Are you hitting on me?” she blurted at the same time Bean asked, “Have you ever farmed before?”

Gwen propped herself up on her side, “What? No. Of course not. Have you?”

Bean, too, sat up, “Maybe?”

“Maybe you’ve farmed before or maybe you’re hitting on me?”

“What? No, I haven’t farmed. I was just making conversation,” Bean wrinkled her nose.

“So you’re hitting on me.”

Bean shrugged, “I mean…would that be okay?”

Gwen blinked at her before she laid back down, “This is a weird night,” she breathed, staring straight ahead as Bean tentatively settled back down next to her.

“Everything’s weird,” Bean pointed out.

“So are you, like…a lesbian or something?”

Bean snickered, “Or something.”

“Cool.”

Again: silence.

“Are _you_ a lesbian or something?” Bean asked quietly.

Gwen considered this. She’d thought about this before. She’d kissed tons of girls at parties, sometimes because it seemed like Clark was in to it, other times just because she’d had a lot to drink and she just wanted to at the time.

The fact of the matter was that she had wanted to.

But she also wanted to kiss boys. Definitely. Like, all the time.

“Bisexual, maybe,” she decided - just like that.

The two girls glanced at each other and Gwen grinned when she felt cold fingers brush against hers. She turned her hand over, and Bean interlaced their fingers with a sheepish grin.

“Cool,” Bean sighed, and it was like a sigh of relief. Gwen wondered how long she’d been keeping her secret - who knew about it, if anyone.

It really was a weird night.

But weird wasn’t always bad.


	4. gwean: "come cuddle."

Gwen was bored.

And Gwen herself would be the first one to tell you that there was no force on earth that was quite as insufferable as a bored Gwen Patterson.

She rolled over where she lay atop the covers of her bed and reached for her phone, hurriedly typing out a text.

**Gwen:** i’m bored.

**Bean:** i’m working.

**Gwen:** working shmerking - come cuddle.

**Bean:** just let me finish this chapter.

**Gwen:** the chapter will still be there after a nap - c’mon, you’ve earned a nap.

**Bean:** you’re a bad influence.

**Gwen:** are you on the verge of discovering how to get home?

**Bean:** no.

**Gwen:** then it’s no biggie. you have time to cuddle. now come.

With a smug smile, Gwen set the phone aside and spun herself around so that she was laying on her stomach, chin resting in her hands as she expectantly watched the bedroom door, waiting for Bean to drag herself upstairs.

She beamed when she heard the footsteps coming up the stairs, down the hall - the turning of the knob.

“Yay,” she grinned when Bean stepped inside. Her smile fell when she saw the book in Bean’s hands, “That’s cheating.”

“I’m trying to get us home!” Bean argued stubbornly, “I can read and cuddle at the same time.”

With an exasperated sigh, Gwen pushed herself up and slid off the bed, padding toward the smaller girl. She pressed against her, cupping her cheek with one hand and leaning in to kiss her slowly while her free hand snaked up to pry the book from Bean’s ever-loosening grip.

Her lips curled into a smile, “There. That wasn’t so hard.”

Bean rolled her eyes, “Five minutes.”

Gwen hummed, “I’m thinking fifteen.”

“Ten.”

“We’ll see,” she grinned, tossing the book aside and ignoring Bean’s protests to her doing so as she took her hand and dragged her toward the bed, “Dibs on little spoon.”

“You always get little spoon!”

“Because I always get dibs.”

“You’re actually the worst, do you know that?” Bean grumbled.

Gwen lifted the covers and crawled into bed, “Yeah, but you love me,” she teased, patting the space next to her expectantly.

Bean blushed furiously, but said nothing. She always turned the brightest, most charming shade of red when Gwen used the ‘L’ word. They hadn’t officially said that to each other yet, but Gwen knew it was coming.

She could feel it. But she wasn’t trying to push - she knew Bean would say it when she was ready.

That didn’t mean she would stop teasing. She liked those rosy little cheeks too much to drop it.


	5. grizzam: soulmates

Before every fight, Becca made a point to remind Sam that he was crazy - that he could just stay with her, that he didn’t need to do this.

She never understood that it wasn’t just about the money. Yeah, it was good when he won, when he could make rent in one single night, but it just wasn’t about that.

It was about power - it was about Campbell, and the years he’d spent feeling weak, powerless. It was about taking back that power. It was about feeling strong, feeling invincible. It was about finding an outlet for this itching, aching feeling he felt in his gut when he just felt anxious - like he was about to crawl out of his skin.

It had never been about the fucking money, but Becca, bless her heart, saint that she was, could never understand that, because she hadn’t lived through was Sam had lived through. She hadn’t been there. She hadn’t seen it - endured it.

Help me understand, she would always plead when he signed such things to her when the subject came up every week, every night, before every fight.

“It’s complicated,” he signed again on this particular night before he returned his attention to wrapping his hands, effectively putting an end to the conversation.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and, with an aggravated sigh, Sam looked back up at Becca, “I have to finish this,” he snapped, signing sharply.

Becca rolled her eyes, “I just wanted to say good luck,” she assured him, defeated, “Love you.”

She leaned over to kiss the top of his head before she turned to go. Sam caught her hand, immediately feeling guilty for snapping at her, “Love you, too,” he signed, gaze apologetic.

Becca smiled and squeezed his hand before she headed out to her seat. She was meeting up with friends that night - friends she had invited because they were college football players who were, apparently, bored with white-laced athletics, looking for a thrill, intrigued by the idea of underground fighting.

She was also trying to get in good with one of them, but she had insisted that that was beside the point. Becca had become convinced that her soulmate had to be an athlete, judging by the way her muscles always ached, and the bruises she often found littering her torso.

Hence how she’d narrowed in on a football player.

One in particular, and Sam really hoped she’d picked the right one, because she really liked the guy. She’d fallen for him hard and fast - from the moment she first saw his face, she said, she’d just _known_ that it was him. It had to be.

Sam had heard rumours that it could be like that sometimes - that you just knew the moment you saw them, that everything changed in an instant - but he had his doubts. He had doubts about a lot of things, even the concept of soulmates themselves.

He just couldn’t imagine feeling that way, or having anyone feel that way about him.

But he knew Becca. He knew that she, too, had a solid head on her shoulders, had her own doubts and questions, and yet here she was - head over heels to the point where Sam knew she would be devastated if she was wrong about this guy.

He hoped she was right. He hoped that she had found him.

Sam, on the other hand…

He didn’t know anything about his soulmate. In high school, now and then, Sam’s cheek would burn, or his eye would bruise late at night, and he had to wonder what that meant. It had worried him.

And he’d felt guilty for putting his soulmate through Campbell’s abuse.

He glanced down, then, and touched the burn scars on his arm.

Poor, unfortunate bastard who was stuck with Sam for a soulmate.

He felt another tap that drew him from his reverie, and he glanced up to see one of the bouncers hovering over him, “You’re up,” he said, and Sam gave a nod to show that he understood.

He stood up, bouncing up and down a few times, swinging his arms back and forth to warm up his body, rotating his neck from one shoulder to the other. He stretched as he made his way toward the ring, ducking under the ropes when the bouncer lifted them for him.

His opponent was well matched - similar in size and stature. Wild eyes. He looked freaked out, which told Sam that this had to be his first time.

“You’ll be fine,” Sam assured him, and he could tell the guy was surprised by his voice, and he looked around in a panic, checking to make sure this was okay.

Sam was used to that. People were idiots - ignorance was a hell of thing.

Rather than get angry, Sam filed that away to fuel him during the actual fight and took the opportunity to look for Becca and her man. He was curious to see the football player who had managed to catch Becca’s eye.

What he found instead was a tall, dark haired stranger - one of the most beautiful creatures he’d ever seen in his life - and that tall, handsome stranger was staring back at him with the same breathless look of shock and awe and Sam fucking _knew_.

Exactly how Becca had known.

That one was his.

A warmth unlike anything he’d ever experienced enveloped his entire body - like a warm sun beating down on him and only him - and his heart pounded in his chest. The rest of the world faded away, and it was just Sam and that stranger, and nothing else.

_Holy shit._

Sam jumped when, yet again, he was tapped, and the rest of the world came crashing back in around him. He remembered where he was, what he was doing, and what he was about to put that tall, dark stranger through - what he had already put him through.

Sam felt sick.

“You okay?” the bouncer asked, frowning deeply.

Sam shook his head, “I forfeit,” he breathed, not even waiting for confirmation that he’d been heard and understood before he ran from the ring in a daze.

_Fuck, fuck, shit, fuck._

He had nearly reached the dressing room when someone grabbed his wrist. Out of some sort of misdirected fight or flight instinct, Sam swung at them, “Let go of me!”

To his surprise and absolute relief, the tall, dark haired stranger from the stands - his soulmate - caught the blow with his free hand before it could land.

“Shit - I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Sam blurted frantically, free hand signing what it could whilst the man held his other arm.

“It’s okay - _hey_, it’s okay. It’s all good,” the man assured him, watching Sam worriedly as he continued to panic.

He let go of Sam’s wrist, then, and Sam fell back against the wall of the hall, his chest feeling tight, “It’s not,” he breathed, closing his eyes and shaking his head, “It’s not okay.”

He let his head fall back against the cool concrete and opened his eyes once more to look up at the beautiful stranger, “I’m sorry I hurt you,” he murmured brokenly.

“Me, too,” the stranger offered in return with a hesitant, understanding smile.

Sam recalled the black eyes and stinging cheeks. His soulmate had nothing to apologize for. Someone had hurt him, like Campbell had hurt Sam.

That wasn’t their fault.

The stranger offered his hand, “I’m Grizz.”

Sam took the hand and let Grizz pull him upright once more. Still a bit dazed, Sam stumbled slightly against Grizz’s chest, and his breath caught at the realization that it felt right - more right than any touch before it had ever felt. He wanted to linger there for hours, days, years, maybe even the rest of his life.

“Sam,” he signed, speaking the word aloud for Grizz’s sake.

Grizz smiled, his hands resting on Sam’s hips, “Nice to meet you, Sam.”


	6. grizzam: "what's cookin', good lookin'?"/superheroes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fair warning: i struggled the most with fitting in the quote prompt for this one, so, it's silly and out of place and i'm sorry lmao

Smoke rose steadily from the surface of Grizz’s skin as the Guard made their way toward the high school - their old stomping grounds, so much more sinister now than it had ever been back then.

“Grizz, you need to calm down, bud,” Luke warned.

Grizz glanced at him - glared at him, “It’s Sam,” he snarled through gritted teeth.

“We’ll get him, bro,” Clark assured him, clapping him on the shoulder thoughtlessly, withdrawing his hand immediately in regret.

“Fuck,” he muttered, shaking out the sizzled appendage.

“He could be anywhere, dude,” Jason pointed out, balking at the sheer size of the building that held their friend, and Grizz’s love, prisoner.

“That’s what we’ve got Clark for,” Luke beamed, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a torn piece of fabric - a piece of one of Sam’s shirts.

He reached around Grizz to hold it out for Clark, rightfully bypassing the former knowing that the fabric would be charred to pieces if the emotionally compromised Grizz so much as looked at it the wrong way.

Clark wrinkled his nose, but snatched the fabric, “I hate being the Guard’s sniffer dog.”

Jason snickered, “Guard dog.”

Clark shoved him, “Fuck you, bro.”

“Just smell the damn shirt, Clark!” Grizz snapped, growing more and more impatient by the second, flames curling and licking between his fingertips.

“Grizz,” Luke warned.

“Chillax, bro - I got this,” Clark assured him before he raised the fabric to his nose and inhaled deeply.

He tucked the material into his pocket once he was satisfied, “Your boyfriend smells like pepper.”

Grizz smirked.

“Let’s do this,” Luke muttered, and the exposed skin on his arms took on a metallic sheen as the four of them made their way toward the school.

Clark and Grizz fell back and let Jason and Luke take the lead as they drew closer to the front doors. Without missing a beat, not hesitating for a second, Jason drew his arm back and hurled his fist toward the doors, blowing them clear off of their hinges with the force of the blow, “Boo-ya, Motherfuckers!” he crowed proudly as he stepped over the wreckage.

“Real’ subtle, Jay,” Luke grumbled, shaking his head in disapproval before he followed him inside.

Grizz glanced over at Clark, “Where to?"

“Straight ahead - toward the gym.”

Grizz raised an eyebrow, “The gym?”

It was too obvious.

“Maybe they’re just that stupid?”

“Or that sure we won’t make it that far.”

Clark grinned at him, “Well, then, we’ll just have to prove ‘em wrong,” he stated, holding out a fist.

Grizz double checked just to be sure that Clark’s razor-sharp claws weren’t out before he bumped his fist against the one he offered.

Clark withdrew his hand quickly, “Yup, still hot.”

Grizz winced in sympathy, “Sorry.”

“Nope - that was my bad.”

“Hey! What’s the hold up?” Jason called impatiently from down the hall.

Grizz rolled his eyes, “Well, if they didn’t know we were here before - “

“They know now,” Clark agreed with a crooked smile. He was far more pleased by that fact than Grizz was.

Clark wanted to fight.

Grizz just wanted to get Sam back.

“We’ve got company, boys,” Luke called, and Grizz hurried over to stand with the others as Greg Dewey, Harry Bingham, and Lexie Pemberton casually approached.

“Gentlemen,” Harry called, “Fancy seeing you here.”

“We just want our boy back, Harry - this doesn’t have to get messy,” Luke called, and both Clark and Jason’s heads whipped around to glare at him.

Even Grizz was unhappy with that promise, but he kept his mouth shut.

“Well, I mean...you already broke our front door, so…” Harry mused, “I’d say a mess has already been made.”

As he spoke, the hallway began to grow dark as ominous clouds materialized above them. Lightning cracked, thunder boomed, and gale force winds began to pick up as Dewey’s lanky frame began to change, growing in stature until he became a massive, snarling beast.

“Clark - “ Luke began.

“On it,” Clark grinned, eyes turning a bright yellow, fangs and claws descending as he and Dewey locked eyes.

The battle was on.

“Jason - you take Lexie. I’ve got Harry. Grizz, we’ll keep ‘em busy - you go ahead.”

Grizz nodded, stomach turning uneasily at the thought of leaving his friends alone to fight this battle for him, but he needed to make sure Sam was safe. He would get Sam, then come back to help his friends.

The Guard rushed forward, as did their opponents - Lexie merely standing back with a smirk while she sent projections of herself forth to do her bidding.

“That’s fucking cheating, dude,” Grizz heard Jason yell in protest as he batted each one away only to be met with another two to replace it.

_Cut off one head…_

A hydra.

“You’ve gotta get her, Jason! Ignore the projections - they’re just fucking decoys!” Grizz called, cursing under his breath because he couldn’t leave them. When he looked to check on Luke, he was battling to get past lightning strike after lightning strike, each of which was drawn to his metallic shielding.

And Clark…

Clark was being torn to shreds.

“Fuck,” Grizz sprinted to help Clark, flames engulfing his fists, arms, back as he hurled himself into Dewey’s side, catching him off guard and knocking him off balance. Grizz hurriedly righted himself while the beast yelped in pain as residual flames seared through his thick, matted fur.

“Clark, you good?” Grizz called, glancing back at his friend.

His wounds were already slowly starting to heal, but there were a lot of them. Clark nodded, but then his eyes widened, “Grizz, behind you!”

The warning came too late and, when Grizz turned, he was met by Greg Dewey’s beast, raised to it’s full height, and the full force of it’s claws as it delivered a devastating blow, sending Grizz skidding across the hallway into the lockers.

Grizz could feel the blood soaking through his shirt. His ears were ringing, sound was muddled and muted. Everything was a blur.

“Grizz!” It was Luke, crouching in front of him, “Grizz, c’mon,” he pleaded, patting his cheek insistently.

Grizz blinked up at him, “Sam...?”

“Yeah, buddy - we gotta get Sam. You gotta get up, c’mon.”

Emboldened by that reminder, and with Luke’s help, Grizz rose unsteadily to his feet. His vision was obstructed by a weird sheen, and he realized that Luke hadn’t let go of his hand, had his arm around his shoulders.

It was Luke’s shield, engulfing both of them.

“I’ll get you past Harry, then you gotta go get Sam, alright? Don’t worry about us. We’ve got this.”

Grizz nodded. His head was becoming clearer and clearer by the second, and he peered around, already thinking of what he could do to help before he went forward toward the gym.

He clenched his hands into fists, “Take your hands off me,” he warned Luke - the phrase not used in the usual, threatening way those words were often uttered.

Luke glanced over at Grizz, took one look at the way the veins beneath his skin were beginning to rise and glow a bright, alarming, fire-y red - like smouldering lava - and he grinned.

“You got it,” Luke muttered and, once they were directly in front of Harry and Lexie, Luke released his hold on Grizz and ran to put distance between them, “Jason, Clark - cover!”

Jason’s gaze darted to Grizz, and he lit up, “Yeah baby!”

Once he knew the others were a safe distance from him, Grizz unleashed the pent up force building within him, and fire burst from his palms. He lit the hallway ablaze with reckless abandon, creating a barrier between his friends and their enemies, surrounding them with a raging fire.

While Dewey, Lexie, and Harry struggled to breathe amidst the thick, black smoke, Grizz waltzed right through it, impervious to the flames.

He crouched in front of Harry, his veins still glowing and swirling with liquid hot magma, “Where’s Sam?”

“Fuck you,” Harry spat between violent coughs.

With a tilt of his head, Grizz reached out and pressed his palm against the back of Harry’s neck. Harry cried out in pain as the touch left an angry, blistering brand.

“Sam?” Grizz asked again.

“He’s in the office beside the gym,” Harry groaned.

Grizz smiled, patting his shoulder quickly before he stood, “Thanks.”

He passed through the opposite side of the flames and headed toward the office. Campbell was still here, somewhere, so Grizz kept his guard up and his eyes peeled.

But the elder Eliot never showed his face.

Which was almost more unnerving than if he had.

It made Grizz run just a little bit faster.

When he reached the office, he was unsurprised to find that it was locked. He wrapped his palm around the handle, and as the power coursing through his veins moved toward the handle, it began to melt in his hand until the latch was simply no more than a puddle of liquid metal and Grizz was able to open the door with a gentle push.

And there he was, bound to a chair, his wrists tied behind his back, ankles tied together. Gagged.

Grizz had to take a deep breath to keep himself calm.

He closed the door behind him and hurried forward, pulling the gag out of Sam’s mouth. He was about to ask if he was okay when Sam grinned, “What’s cookin’, good lookin’?”

Grizz blinked at him, “What?”

Sam shrugged, “I’ve been sitting on that line for weeks and I smell smoke. I figured this was my chance. Also I think Harry slipped me something,” he frowned.

“Your comedic timing sucks,” Grizz chuckled, but even as he fondly scolded Sam for his poor timing, he leaned in to steal a quick kiss.

“Now whose timing sucks?” Sam teased. He blinked, then, brow furrowing in concern, “You’re hurt.”

“It’s nothing - are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

Sam shook his head, “Untie me. I can fix it.”

Grizz was already working on his feet and shook his head immediately at the suggestion, “No, you’re not doing that. It’s fine.”

Sam glared at him, then his eyes fixated on Grizz’s wounded neck and shoulder as he hurried to get rid of the rest of the ropes.

The second his hands were free, Sam reached forward and placed them directly over the wound.

“Sam, don’t!” Grizz protested, moving to jerk away from the touch, but Sam only moved with him, brow furrowed in concentration as a chilling numbness crept over Grizz’s shoulder, up the side of his neck.

He watched in horror as Sam grew paler and paler with every passing second, never once taking his eyes off of the wound, “Sam,” Grizz protested, reaching to touch his cheek. He knew better than to stop him once he started - he knew it could be dangerous to jar him from the process once he’d begun.

But his skin was cold and clammy, his lips were turning blue, “Sam, stop,” he pleaded, wrenching his gaze away from the wound so that their eyes could meet.

Sam’s eyes seemed to clear and he blinked, as if he was only just noticing that Grizz was there with him.

“Stop,” Grizz murmured, thumb stroking his cheek sweetly.

After a few tense seconds, Sam removed his hands. They were shaking as he twisted them into what remained of Grizz’s shirt, grasping tightly to the tattered fabric as he swayed forward on his feet, bracing himself against Grizz’s chest.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Grizz scolded, wrapping an arm around his waist to keep him upright.

It took so much out of him to heal others - it _hurt_ him.

Grizz hated when he used his power. Especially on him.

Sam nodded, swallowing thickly, “Let’s get out of here,” he suggested, and Grizz nodded.

“Yeah. Let’s get you home.”


End file.
